20 November 2009

En français ici.I'd like to have something profound and philosophical to say in this post, but I don't. I think this is largely because of the evilness of pomme d'or squash. Oh, they're cute alright, and small and innocent-looking. They have smooth skin and are the size and color of an orange. Yes, they have that rosy golden glow of autumn and Thanksgiving right around the corner. Oh and they smell nice when cooking, and taste delicious. But don't let that fool you. They are mean, nasty buggers.

First of all their skin is tougher than an armored tank. I don't see why armies bother with Teflon when a soldier covered in these little squashes would be near invincible. Okay, ridiculous-looking, but invincible! (Besides there's a long tradition of ridiculous outfits and invincibility - just look at most classic superheros.)

I should have taken Camille's advice and roasted/steamed the squash whole, but I thought it couldn't be THAT hard to cut them in half and take out the seeds. I suppose it was a good idea... until I almost lost a finger. I had to cut into them so hard that when I felt the knife slip onto my index finger, I was sure it was gone for good! Luckily my reflexes are a lot better than I give them credit for and, besides scaring myself half to death, the damage was minimal.

Anyway the end result, a gratin based on a combination of Camille's Squash Apple Crumble and Anne's Gratin de poireaux au four, was absolutely delicious. How delicious, you ask? I might consider cooking pomme d'or squash again just to have it.

For my American readers: this would be a perfect Thanksgiving side dish, and you could substitute other types of squash, since pommes d'or are pretty rare in the US.

Preheat oven to 375ºF/190ºC. Cut the squash in half (if you can) and scoop out the seeds. Place halves in a baking dish with a bit of water. Drizzle olive oil on squash and sprinkle with sea salt and sage. Roast until the squash is soft. Remove from oven and scoop flesh into another baking dish. Top squash with half the cheese (both kinds).

In the meantime, wash and chop the leeks. Melt the butter in a large frying pan and add the leeks and garlic. Cook until leeks are soft (about 15 min). Add a splash of white wine and cook another minute. Remove from heat and add the cream, stirring well.

Pour the leeks on top of the squash and top with the rest of the cheese. Put in the oven for 15-20 minutes, until the cheese is melted and starts to turn golden. Serve hot as a main or side dish!

Inside: a collection of international recipes submitted by food bloggers from around the world who want to make a difference by raising funds for the UN World Food Programme. It includes a recipe for Sausage and Peppers by yours truly!

How exactly we're helping: One hundred percent of the proceeds from the cookbook will benefit the WFP's School Meals, a program that nourishes school children in developing countries in an effort, not only to combat poverty and hunger, but also to promote education.

En français ici.With all the pumpkin and squash recipes circulation on food blogs recently, I think we can fairly say that foodie fall is in full swing (and it's alliterative!). D. and I joined in the fun last weekend with a Halloween party, and made as many orange fall-y foods as we could think of, including a big cocktail served in a pumpkin. Actually lots of pumpkins got hollowed out for the occasion by us and by friends, and I'm sure they will not be the last of the season.

I love pumpkin carving. There's something inherently satisfying about being up to ones elbows in fibrous pumpkin gook. (Sound appetizing, right?) It helped that when I was doing this last Saturday, I was alone in the house (D. was at an all-day meeting) and I didn't even have to pretend to be civilized. For me, it's the same wonderful feeling as getting totally soaking wet in the rain when you know you can come inside right after and get dry, or digging your fingers into the dirt and wiping them on old jeans while gardening. It reminds me of being a kid and not caring what I looked like or who saw me that way.

Another thing I've always loved about pumpkin carving is pumpkin seeds. When I was little, we'd collect them in a bowl and my mom would roast them the next day. I know you can buy pumpkin seeds in the supermarket, but we never did. They were always for the day after pumpkin carving and therefore a treat!

So this fall, when you're scooping the seeds out of your pumpkin, don't throw them away! Roast them up and serve them with before dinner drinks...mmmm.

Note: If you do this the day after carving, they'll have dried a bit and roast easier. But as someone smart pointed out (Nick, but don't tell him I said so), if you don't wait, you're just drying them out in the oven and then roasting them. Might take a bit longer, but should work fine.

2 cups raw pumpkin seeds3 Tbsp butter1 tsp salt

Preheat the oven to 300ºF/150ºC.

In a med-sized saucepan, melt the butter and stir in the salt and pumpkin seeds (for variations, you can get creative with other spices or herbs, i.e. cajun spices, cayenne, garlic salt, etc). Mix until the seeds are well-covered with the butter and salt. Spread seeds in a single layer on a cookie sheet. Roast 35-40 minutes in the oven, or until golden, stirring occasionally.

Yep, it's that simple and considering how little work you put in for the amount of yumminess that comes out, there's no reason not to make them!

Towards the beginning of In the Shadow of Young Girls in Flower, Proust writes a stunning passage about the particular and surprising quality of beauty and happiness -- you all didn't realize you were signing up to read along, did you! -- about how we are pessimistic about life because we remember beauty as some sort of synthesis or average of "beautiful things" we've seen, when instead it is something that is new and different each time we come across it.

This is how I feel about fall. I remember I like it all the year round, and yet the particular red of a climbing vine or the bright golden of a certain tree always surprises and stuns me when the actual season comes around, no matter how many times I've seen it.

For the past three years, living in a city, (and a warmer climate than I'm used to,) I've spent my autumns pining for New England in a very active, heart-wrenching sort of way, wishing to walk in the woods there and bathe in the river of colors. Although some part of my heart will probably always be in New England, this year I decided it was time to stop whining and start appreciating what was around me. Hopie, I said to myself, you don't live in New England. You live in Montmartre. And that's a pretty darn cool place to be if you'd stop to appreciate it.

So that's exactly what I did. I took my camera and went for a long leisurely walk up through the gardens below the Sacre Coeur and then down through the streets of Montmartre and I stopped to appreciate every color, every vine, every pretty fall leaf, and, you know what? It was stunning. And I wanted to share the experience.

Today's recipe is perhaps a bit late, given the season. It's one I made quite a bit at the beginning of the fall when there were still way too many zucchini to know what to do with and my window box was overflowing with basil (which I still haven't completely harvested and better do quickly before it gets too cold!). Still, you can give it a try or hold on to it for next year when it might jump out and surprise you like all wonderful things :-)

Preheat the oven to 400ºF/200ºC. Pierce the puff pastry with a fork in the tart pan and prebake 10 minutes.

In a large bowl, toss together the zucchini, feta, basil, lemon juice, and garlic. Season with salt and pepper to taste and lay out in the tart pan. Drizzle with olive oil and bake for 15-20 minutes, until golden. Let cool a few minutes before serving.